


Unborn

by zeldadestry



Category: Smallville
Genre: Community: 100_women, F/M, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-16
Updated: 2008-05-16
Packaged: 2017-10-09 03:32:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/82560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zeldadestry/pseuds/zeldadestry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I have never been outside.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unborn

**Author's Note:**

> prompt 71, 'air',100_women fanfic challenge

I have never been outside.

 

I do not remember much when I am awake, but I see many faces in my dreams. Sometimes I ask him about them. "Can I see Chloe? What about Clark?"

"No," he says. "No. You must always stay here, where it's safe."

"But I'm so lonely when you're away."

"I'm sorry," he says, taking my hand. "That can't be helped."

 

No one has ever kissed me. When they woke me up in the lab, the first time I saw Lex, the Doctor made a joke about fairy tales. "Takes a hell of a lot more than a kiss to wake this sleeping beauty." He laughed, but Lex did not. Lex only looked at me, and at first I thought he was pleased, but when he moved closer, when he put his arms out and I ran to them, he was the first to let go.

"Something's not right," I heard him tell the Doctor later in the day, when they thought I was asleep. "She doesn't smell the same, her expressions are different."

 

One night I walk through the empty house, open door after door, looking for him. When I find him I slip into bed beside him, close enough to feel the heat of his body. I lie there awake, watching him breathe. It is the happiest I have ever been. When he wakes, he turns towards me and his eyes widen, he touches his fingers to my lips. "Lana," he whispers. It is the first time he has ever spoken my name. Then he remembers, he pulls away, he covers his face with his hands. "Go," he orders, and I do.

Now the door to my suite is locked at night from the outside, and I can not get out.

I touch myself. I wish he would.

 

I rarely see him during the day. In the evenings we eat a late dinner, and then I follow him into the library. It is lined with shelf after shelf, built into the walls, filled with books from the high domed roof down to the cold marble floor. He always takes a volume into his hands, but I notice that he rarely reads. Usually he only sits and stares into space, or at the fire, or sometimes in my direction.

Tonight he tells me to sit by the windows, and he opens one so that I can feel the breeze move across my face and smell the flowers that bloom in the garden below. "I wish I could go for a walk in the moonlight."

"You know you can't," he scolds.

"Don't be angry. I didn't say I wanted, I said I wish."

"Be quiet." I am. I sit there and I raise my head to admire the stars until my neck aches and then I close my eyes and breathe deep the cool moist night air. "Don't move," he says, and I stay perfectly still as I hear him walk towards me and kneel in front of me. "Don't move." His hand takes my own. "Are you happy?" I don't say anything because if this is a game, he will punish me for breaking the rules. "It's alright, you may speak. Are you happy?"

"When you're here."

"And when I'm away?" I shake my head, and hold tighter to his hand. "Open your eyes." I do. "What do you see when you look at me?"

"I don't see. I feel."

That makes him smile. He never smiles, only sometimes, sometimes, I can make him, and I wish I knew how. I wish he were happier with me. "And what do you feel?"

"Love."

He smiles again, and even laughs, and I laugh along with him, I am so happy. He shakes his head, holds my hand against his heart. "It's because you don't know any better," he says. "It's the proof that you're flawed."

 

When he says good night, I follow him to the door. "Take me with you. Let me sleep with you."

"No."

"But I want to, I want to touch you. I miss you all the time, even when you're here, if I can't touch you. It hurts to miss you so much. Please, please, let me touch you."

"No."

"Why? Why not?"

"Because that's not why I made you."

"Then why?"

"I don't know," he says, "but I'm sorry, for your sake, that I did."

He leaves. He leaves me alone in the dark.


End file.
